


One Soul, Slightly Used

by Medie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't want him to see this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Soul, Slightly Used

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://xphoenixrising.livejournal.com/profile)[**xphoenixrising**](http://xphoenixrising.livejournal.com/) for the most recent round of 10 drabbles meme.

"Don't think," Ruby had said, "just do it."

Sam looks at the flask in her hand, remembers the way it had felt. Power hitting her veins like a jolt of electricity, burning through her and leaving nerve endings raw in its wake. She licks her lips, grits her hand, and tries not to think about it. To not remember the way her body surged into it, eagerly throwing itself on the wave and riding the power to its end. It wasn't about that. It was never about that. It was _Dean_. About getting him back, even if it meant killing every demon in Hell to do it.

She shifts, restless, in bed. One lean leg slides against the other as she rolls onto her side. Dean's not there. She looks up, watching the streetlight against the filmy motel curtains, and thinks she sees the flicker of movement.

Good. She doesn't want him to see this. Wants to pretend he doesn't see the change, but knows the truth. If she can feel the way the power thrums through her, then she knows Dean can too. If he can't see it yet, he can feel it, humming beneath her skin, whispering of secrets and lies she can't ever confess.

_"Just do it."_ Ruby whispers through her thoughts and Sam closes her eyes, seeing Dean on the floor screaming as the hellhounds ripped him apart, and then beneath her earlier tonight, safe, _alive_, his hands tight on her hips as she rode him.

Sam looks at the flask and then at the window again, resolve curling her fingers tighter. She can't do it again. She can't. She doesn't care if that makes her weak. She can't go through anything like it again.

Unscrewing the cap, she knocks back a quick swallow, letting it slide down her throat in a gulp. "Just do it," she mutters with a wipe of her mouth. One foot in front of the other, one demon at a time, ripping her way through the world, looking for anything, anyone, that would get her to Dean.

She slides out of bed, letting the sheet puddle on the floor as she moves, naked, across the room. The flask, almost empty and ignores the chill _that_ thought causes, is returned to its hiding place, shoved down in a bag with her tampons, birth control, and a dozen other things Dean avoids on principle. It's forestalling the inevitable, but Sam's a Winchester. Ignoring the consequences is second nature.

Someone whistles, low and wicked, and she rolls her eyes. "_Seriously_, Dean?"

He closes the door behind him, chill from the night air sliding over her skin and making her shiver, laughing. "You're the one giving the free peep show, Sammy, might wanna think about locking the door next time."

She stands, grabbing a tank and a pair of his boxers as she does, and faces him. Dean shrugs out of his coat, never quite taking his eyes off her, and the look in them is enough to make her shiver again. Guilt, fear and want all in the same mixed up thrill. "Why?" she asks.

Squaring her shoulders, she grins at the way his eyes drop to her chest. "Never know who might happen by," he says, voice rough. "Can't be too careful these days."

"Like I'd worry," Sam says. She walks across the room, confident in her own skin, and feels a rush of power at the way he follows her body's movements. The days of stumbling and tripping her own feet are a long time gone, but this confidence is newer still. She thinks about reaching out, stripping Dean's clothes with a thought, and wants to laugh at his reaction.

Except it wouldn't be his reaction at all. No sputtered, "Sammy, what the hell?" just accusations and anger.

She shakes off the thought, settling for trapping him against the door with a smug smile. "My brother can totally kick their ass. Just like always."

He huffs a laugh, but doesn't argue.

Sam rewards his silence by kissing him again. They tumble to the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter and she can almost, _almost_, forget. No seals, no contracts, angels and demons circling them like wolves on the hunt, no siren song of power pulling her down the garden path, just them.

For now, it's enough. For now, it has to be.


End file.
